Fixing GSR
by sarapals with past50
Summary: How to fix GSR? It's an easy fix and here's the way it can be done! This is a parody, a story to get you to laugh! Because GSR fans have had very little reason to smile since "FMN"- most of us would welcome a 'fix'. This is a quick little 'one shot'. Not a part of a contest, but we did get the idea from one!


_A/N: This is a one-shot story, not an entry into a contest (so rules don't apply), but we did borrow the idea from there! We don't own any part of CSI or anything else; all done in fun as a parody! Enjoy our "fix of GSR"! _

**Fixing GSR**

The man, white hair curling around his ears, climbed out of the blue mini-van, reached for a white panama hat and jammed it on his head as he checked the rear seats before pressing the lock button on the key fob. Adjusting his dark sunglasses, he looked around an almost empty parking lot, hitched his pants up to keep the hem from dragging in the dust, and headed north.

Amazed that he had never heard of the area, he walked underneath a pergola providing shade and searched the benches for a familiar figure. Seeing the movement of another human some distance ahead, his steps quicken. He'd recognize that long-legged stride anywhere.

The remote park was as far away from the glitz and glam usually associated with the area as the moon—and as different. No water was wasted on growing grass; this park, at first glance, seemed to be a wasteland. But it was carefully intended to be preserved in a natural state—one of sandy soil, low-growing scrub growth, and a home for tiny native animals.

As he passed near the shadow of a larger-than life sized statue of a coyote, he decided the area might have more than the small animals shown on the display cards along the path.

Ahead of him, the woman turned, following the path, and, hoping to draw her attention, he waved. She stopped, hand went over her shaded eyes, and, a few seconds later, she waved and began to retrace her steps. He hurried.

It had been over a year since he had seen her in person—he felt a tightening in his chest which was unexpected—yet her apparently obvious delight at seeing him was evident as she approached. Her beauty radiated as she drew closer; a rose colored shirt highlighted her coloring—he knew the first time he had met her that she was beautiful, but she was a rare one whose attractiveness actually improved with age.

When she was still yards away, his first words were "You look great!"

"Ahh," she replied, a remembered huskiness in her voice, "and look at you—not a day older!" She reached long arms to him and stepped into his, creating an intimate hug that lasted a full minute. "Blue is always your color," she said as she stepped back. "And the hat—wow! I've never seen you in a panama!" Easily, her finger touched the edge of the hat in a gesture of familiarity that he had forgotten about her.

"This is a hidden gem! How'd you find it?" He asked.

An easy smile formed. "It's not well known—good place to hide. Good place to have a quiet conversation."

His hand touched her back and both walked in the direction from which she had come.

He asked, "How've you been?"

"Good—great—and you? I've missed you." The broad smile that graced her face told him enough.

"I'm good—better than I've been in a long time."

Her arm went around his back; his did the same and they walked in quiet companionship as the path wound deeper into the park. Finally, after walking up an incline and over a small hill, they found what she had said was there—four benches shaded by vines growing over wooden trellises.

Looking around, he asked, "Who would know this was here?"

She laughed, the beautiful giggle of a girl, unexpected and unsophisticated for someone her age. He rarely heard such a simple, genuine expression of laughter from anyone older than five or six.

She answered, "I found it a couple of years ago—trying to find a quiet place in nature!"

Gesturing to the benches, he let her choose—one that faced west—and they settled together, again quietly as the area seemed to come alive with the sounds of birds.

"Amazing, isn't it?" She asked as her hand came to rest on his arm.

His sigh caused her to make a small chuckle. "So," she said, "what's the reason for all the—this subterfuge and secrecy?" A quick smile, "Not that I object!"

He grinned, truly relaxing for the first time since he began the drive north. "You know how it is—you think no one notices and then show up for a quick visit—and the next thing you know—pictures are everywhere—some not so flattering!"

Her hand took his as she said, "Everyone wants a piece of you. Sorry—really I am."

Turning his hand so his fingers could thread with hers, he said, "So—how did this all happen? How did we become," with his free hand he wagged a finger back and forth, "such an item—such a 'romance'?"

She threw back her head with robust laughter. "I've loved you since the beginning, dear!"

"What are we going to do? It's a mess now!"

Her hand covered her mouth in an effort to match his seriousness. She said, "It's not our fault!"

Curling his fingers around hers, he said, "Well, I did piss quite a few people off."

Another giggle, "Oh, yeah, I think you did! Maybe an entire room full of people!"

He grimaced. "That bad, huh? I heard it was bad."

Laughter followed, "Yes, it was bad. I cried for at least a week. Talk about a broken heart! I don't think anyone realized the repercussions—afterwards there was some back talking trying to soothe feelings, but it really didn't work."

"Why?" He asked, adding, "Breaking up was never our plan."

"No, not ours, but someone did not like the idea of our long distance marriage. Why should it succeed when hers did not? That kind of thing—plus that whole situation of your 'refusal' to cooperate with the phone calls." She gave his shoulder a gentle punch. "But I still love you!"

He leaned forward, keeping her hand in his and closing his free hand around hers. "Well, do you think we can fix things? What if both of us show up and demand a fix?"

Again, another girlish giggle before she said, "Our romance has been pretty much blown up! Do you think it would work?"

He smiled and squeezed her hand. "I think I can make it work. Do you still have the ring?"

"Of course. Tell me."

"I'll walk in the front door—think I'll wear my new hat." He touched the brim of the panama he was wearing. "Ask the first person I see 'Where can I find Sara?' and that person looks startled. I ask the second person—maybe the new girl—who directs me to the garage. I walk to the garage, numerous heads lift as I pass work stations. I walk into the garage and see you dropping weights on several dummies scattered around the floor." He chuckled. "I want you in one of those sexy blue jumpsuits. And I'll say something like 'Are you still smashing dummies?' and you stop, give that little knowing smile, but you never turn around…"

The dark-haired woman laughed again, "Priceless and perfect—I'll respond with 'I don't even have to turn around'—I think that would work."

The man laughed with her, saying, "I've had some time to think about it."

"You think it'll work?"

"Sure—I'll become a bear—threaten to pull my name from the credits! It will work!"

She leaned against his shoulder. "It's so beautiful here—peaceful. I could stay here all day."

He grunted. "I can't—kids have a play date later."

"How are they?"

"Good—great—three years old and full of energy and enthusiasm—wild and rowdy—all the time! All the time!"

"Well, come back for a few days. Take a break—live among adults for a few hours." She giggled. "You'll remember it isn't very different from living with three year olds."

Standing, adjusting his hat, he reached for her right hand. "Come along, Mrs. Grissom. We'll straighten this romance out—what do fans call it? GSR—Grissom Sara romance—who thought that up, I wonder? One of the best romances in television history—it needs to be 'fixed'—so it will live in history as a great one!"

She took his hand, teasingly saying, "The best, Gilbert—not one of the best!"

Slowly, the couple walked, following the trail as it meandered through fields of native plants, pale compared to the watered green lawns of Beverly Hills, Bel-Air, and Brentwood, yet more beautiful in the variety of small flowers blooming along the path.

"This was a great idea, Billy. Thanks for calling me," the woman said as they approached their parked cars.

The man turned, took her in his arms, laughed and quickly kissed her forehead. "We'll fix this—put a ring on your finger and deny we were ever divorced!"

"Oh, we were never divorced; we were only separated—on Twitter from one of the powers that be—having 'problems'—and you were traveling around the world."

"Mmmm—it's time I came 'home'—will you be happy to see me?"

"Of course! I've always loved you, you know that!"

"We'll make them write what we want—I promise!" He opened her car door. "Still driving a Prius, I see."

She giggled—the sound rising and carrying on the wind—before she said, "And I see you're driving a mini-van!" Her voice dropped to a husky growl, "Now, that's real sexy." She got into her car; her laughter reached his ears again.

He said, "I'll see you tomorrow. Three o'clock at Universal City. By the time March arrives, we'll be Mr. and Mrs. Grissom living in that cute condo in Vegas."

"We have a house—very nice mid-century modern one."

An eyebrow arched; he nodded. "Got cha—I'll figure it out!"

Closing the car door, she waved as she watched him climb into the van, taking off the white hat and returning her wave.

She read his lips as he said "Bye, Sara! We'll fix this!" as he raised two fingers in his time-honored habit of the peace sign.

She waggled fingers and waited for him to leave before she pressed the engine button. With a grin, she said to herself, "We'll fix this."

_The End—or perhaps, a beginning to a fix for GSR?! _

_Thanks for reading!_


End file.
